A Day In The Life Of Saga Masamune
by fando
Summary: Saga is completely in love with Oda. He just won't say it.


I have a _problem_. I have an _issue._ I never asked for this, but I sort of like it.

My name is Masamune Saga. This should be sparkles and shojo, but it's not. Right? It's alot like your first shot. I can't believe alot about this situation. That he loves me. And I can't believe he hasn't fallen out of it yet. He talks in his sleep: "Saga…"

Unbelievable.

But no worries. He'll fall out of it soon. Agreeing to go out with him was a mistake. I mean, don't get me wrong here. I love him. The problem is, accepting the reality of our situation was supposed to be easy. He stood there in his too-big school uniform, the one that makes creases on his waist and shoulders because, for some reason, the school can't be bothered to get him a size that fits him, and he looked so goddamn in love with me. He said he wanted to make me less lonely. He said he'd come home with me if that made me less lonely. He must have been... I don't know the word, _attracted_ to how sad I was. Like all the vigilantes are, like how mercenaries go to the worst countries to fix them. This entire thing is supposed to be gentle and sugary like the mangas say. He was supposed to fix me. Right?

I've read a million shojo manga's and that's how it goes down every time. But now I realize that, in real life, that shit doesn't happen. Other people don't fix other people. Or, y'know, the minute he realizes he's made me less lonely and less broken, he'll stop loving me and walk away. It makes sense. Right? He It's too late to back out. I didn't stop loving him. I just, I just, ah fuck. This was all a mistake. I shouldn't have agreed to this.

Because... Whatever. It doesn't matter the reason why. He'll fall out of love with me eventually, I'm sure. I mean, that's why he only said it once.

I run my fingers through his hair and say, "I love you." And then I sigh. I'm a tiny, pathetic little hermit. He should have fallen in love with someone else.

My biggest problem is that my _I love you_ 's stick like peanut butter to my mouth whenever he's awake, and I can't say it other than right now. It never crossed my mind that he doesn't know how I feel.

He frowns in his sleep. His lower lip quivers slightly, and then his lips pucker and relax. He's got big, wide eyes that models would kill to have, and his hair frames his face, and his nose is so small, and his cheeks are so soft. My hands touch his face. I watch my fingers trace out the shape of his eyelids. I couldn't help but touch him gently and I don't think I mind the 's back is against my bare thigh and it feels good, domestic-like. I thread my fingers in his hair with one hand, touching his face; the air coming out of his mouth is sweet like sugar against my fingers.

"I love you so much," I breathe out. I really did.

Suddenly, his eyes open. He's staring straight at me. He moves, rolling on his back slowly with his big, green, curious eyes on me, and his mouth open. "Saga?"

I blink. Is my heart beating or is it dead? This is truly terror.

"Were you…." Moment of truth. "Were you watching me sleep? Saga!"

He didn't hear me say that, thank god. I smile and sigh. But he's upset at me now, and I try to tape up the mistake I made. Should I say yes, and then try to kiss him? The shojo manga's always do that. Maybe I should, too. It's the only thing I know how to do and shojo mangas have been my only teacher. Besides, why is he so upset? I cross my arms, a little miffed. They say that this sort of thing- watching people in their sleep- is sexy. He should be flattered or bashful or something if he loves me so much.

He turns away. His shoulders, hitched up high, are shaking. He scrunches himself up into a ball under my sheets, hiding his face."I'm so embarrassed!"

"…why are you so embarrassed about it?" I say indignantly. I'm always slow with my speech. I never know what to say, no matter how hard I think about it.

"Don't say that…. I could have done something embarrassing like drooled or passed gas or said something stupid in my sleep…. and you'd laugh at me…. Right?"

"…Are you serious? We had sex together. Twice.….After that, you shouldn't be embarrassed about anything with me."

He's still not saying anything. I try to take his hands away from his face, clamping my hands on his wrists, but he's a strong little fucker. "...Because I..."

Nope. Nope. Can't say it. Even if that's what the mangas say I should do. I really need to find another romance teacher. I take my hands away from his and sit back down, at a loss of what to do.

"Don't say that either! Please leave me alone!"

"… but I want to stay here with you."

"I-I'm going to the bathroom," he announces. He puts his feet on the floor and stands up. He's buck-ass naked and I don't think he realizes this or that I'm staring at his ass, but halfway across the floor he freezes and makes a whiny, dying sound in realization. I don't know what he's so insecure about. He's so beautiful.

"C-can I u-use your shower?"

Of course he can. I frown. I say yes, and he leaves. The shower turns on and I'm listening to it, still sitting on the bed. A couple seconds pass. I don't know what to do with myself. "I love you," I say to an empty, cold room.

Me... thinking these things... about him. I'm drowning in these sorts of thoughts. I can't help it. He frowns in his sleep when he sleeps with me. I've memorized it. Maybe if I memorize it, he'll never leave. And when he does leave, I'll have it to remember. It goes like this: his lower lip quivers slightly, and then his lips pucker and relax, and wen I thread my fingers in his hair the air coming out of his mouth is sweet like sugar against my fingers. I don't know why I can't say I love you, if that's the only thing on my mind at any time.

Because... I'm not worth his love. Right? Even if he does love me so much. I should get up. I'm being a bad boyfriend. There's no food for Oda here but there's a corner store five minutes from the house, and if I hurry up I can make him breakfast before he gets out of the shower. I put my shoes on and leave. I want to get him something great for breakfast, like eggs and rice and candy. I want to show him that even though I'm a kid whose mother is from the boonies, I can make him a home-cooked meal that both smells great and is edible. He'll love me for it. His face will shine and he'll smile at me. In five minutes I'm at the store.

I don't know Oda enough to buy him what he likes and that bothers me. He isn't comfortable enough with me to use my shower without asking; I'm not comfortable enough with him to know what he likes to eat. I try to remember what the shojo's say, but they don't say anything about that. Should I get something sugary? Should I get something sweet? That would be like him.

There's a couple in the convenience store with me and no-one else but one cashier, which is a little creepy but it's also early. I stalk the couple. They seem like they know what they're doing. They can be my new romantic teachers. The kid is letting his girlfriend pick out sweets. I knew it; that's what I was thinking earlier. I take whatever that the girl picks out.

"I want this," says the girl at every turn. "Can I have this? Can I buy this?"

The boy smiles and nods and he's got this shit-eating, loopy grin on his face, so big and relaxed that he should be embarrassed for himself. "Whatever makes you happy," he says. He holds the shopping basket out to her.

I snort behind my hand. What a loser. But I have to stop when I realize, horrified, that I'm him. I'm in line behind them and I have a basket of dumb sweets to please my boyfriend back home. I'm thinking about his smile and his eyes and his sweet-sugar breath. I'm just as infatuated with Oda as Frecklesis over here with this redhead ragdoll girlfriend. I wonder if they've said I love you to each other. I wonder if he considers himself good enough for her. I wonder if I should be doing this. They're so much different than me. It won't mean the same thing when I go home with this stuff for Oda.

Prompted by the cashier, he paws through his money. His face falls. I lean over in line to watch him fumble. Is Mr. Perfect Mr. Perfect? "What's wrong?" asks his girlfriend. Is she asking the same question in her head?

"…I'm sorry, sweetie," Mr. Perfect says. "I don't have enough for what you want."

He thunks the basket on the counter, sighing, and motions for his girlfriend to take things out. I clear my throat. She's shrugging her shoulders, the happiest girl in the world- I can tell. She really loves him for who he is. Any idiot who reads shojo manga can tell you that she's just happy he thought of her, but his heart is fractured because he can't make her happy. This is so fucking stupid. It's just grocery items. I wouldn't have understood how they're feeling before I met Oda, but now I can.

Abruptly, I put my hand on his arm.

The cashier's paybox blinks back the difference to me, as a negative in blue numbers. I glance at it, match it, flipping through my own cash, and thunk it down.

"…Let me."

What the fuck am I doing.

The cashier takes my money and lets the couple go. I hand his basket to him, put my own down on the counter, and he takes his stuff slowly as the cashier rings my stuff up. It isn't surprising that I have the same bill as him. His frown grows into a long smile that stretches his freckles out. I wish he would stop looking at me like that. Just go the fuck away.

"Oh! Thank you!"

The girlfriend kisses her boyfriend on the cheek before they leave. I hope Oda kisses my cheek when I arrive home. Home, I keep saying home. Is it our home? I have to stop thinking like this if I'm expecting him to leave me.

I leave, and I'm heading home down the street with my purchases hanging from my hand. He really did make me better. Before I met Oda, I would never have paid another person's difference, and I wouldn't have gone out in the first place to buy food for another person. Before I go in my house, I stare at my house's windows. There's some smoke and a smell coming from the house. Shit, did I leave something on? Of course I didn't. Where's Oda?

When I walk in, I see Oda over my stove, standing on his tiptoes. He's choking the neck of a pan with white-knuckled hands, frowning at the burning food he's trying to cook. What the fuck? Was he trying to cook food for us?

"…Oda."

"S-Saga!" He jumps. "It's not done yet! Sorry!"

"...You're making breakfast?"

"Y-yeah. For you-u..."

"...why?"

"W-well, b-because I thought i-it'd make y-you h-happy."

"...because you love me?"

"What?! I-i guess s-so..."

He turns to me, holds his arms out, positioning his body in front of the stov like he can hide it. Neither of us really know what we're doing. But even if we don't, I guess we care about each other just as much as Freckles and his girlfriend do. God, I need to just get the hell over myself and say it.

"… I lo-"

"Please let me finish, S-saga," he says, laughing nervously and turning back to the stove. "I-it'll be d-done soon."

"... no, I want to say something first," I say slowly. He turns around, looking at me. I glance at the pan now, how it's all charred and gross, and I have to put the shopping basket down because it's too heavy with all this teeth-rotting shit that definitely isn't breakfast food. I feel tired. I feel so, so tired, and I really, really can't say it. I thought I could. But now that I'm thinking about it, he probably just made me breakfast because he feels sorry for me. Right? I can't risk it. This can't be real.

"... okay," I say, and turn around and leave.

 _I don't know why I wrote this in first-person. Takano is such a complex character who gets played off as a typical "seme". We don't see alot about him, especially as a teenager, as Saga. In the manga, he's the quiet kid neglected by his parents and hungry for love. That's a pretty stereotypical image. It's a simple stereotype and we get the message, but I wanted to add more to his personality in this fic. I think of and wanted to portray Saga as more of a lovesick young man who makes excuses why his love can't possibly be truly reciprocated. There's nothing wrong with Oda, in his mind. The fault is all Saga's to Saga._ _Oh, he's just with me because he feels sorry for me, Oh, I'm not worth him, Oh, we don't know each other that well... I think alot of us can relate to that mentality._ _We all know Saga's being an idiot. Even he knows he's being an idiot. He keeps questioning himself- "Right?" Hopefully, he'll come to see that._

 _Also, I feel like when a person is overly pessimistic, their thoughts feel muddled to them. That's why whenever Saga has dialogue, there's always a "..."_

 _Um... I guess that's my two cents. :D_


End file.
